sentiment had been born within him--a sentiment to which he

had been a stranger all his hard life--friendship.

He felt friendship for Theriere! It was unthinkable, and yet

the mucker knew that it was so. Painfully he crawled over to

the Frenchman's side.

"Theriere!" he whispered in the man's ear.

The officer turned his head wearily.

"Do youse know me, old pal?" asked the mucker, and

Barbara Harding knew from the man's voice that there were

tears in his eyes; but what she did not know was that they

welled there in response to the words the mucker had just

spoken--the nearest approach to words of endearment that

ever had passed his lips.

Theriere reached up and took Byrne's hand. It was evident

that he too had noted the unusual quality of the mucker's

voice.

"Yes, old man," he said very faintly, and then "water,

please."

Barbara Harding brought him a drink, holding his head

against her knee while he drank. The cool liquid seemed to

give him new strength for presently he spoke, quite strongly.

"I'm going, Byrne," he said; "but before I go I want to tell

you that of all the brave men I ever have known I have

learned within the past few days to believe that you are the

bravest. A week ago I thought you were a coward--I ask

your forgiveness."

"Ferget it," whispered Byrne, "fer a week ago I guess I

was a coward. Dere seems to be more'n one kind o' nerve--

I'm jest a-learnin' of the right kind, I guess."

"And, Byrne," continued Theriere, "don't forget what I

asked of you before we tossed up to see which should enter

Oda Yorimoto's house."

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>